


fictober: fire emblem three houses edition

by asael



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drabble Collection, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: A collection of drabbles written for Fictober. Some are more explicit, some are closer to gen, all are Fire Emblem: Three Houses.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Caspar von Bergliez/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Catherine/Shamir Nevrand, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Raphael Kirsten/Ignatz Victor, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 146





	fictober: fire emblem three houses edition

**Author's Note:**

> Throughout October, I did little drabbles for various FE3H pairings based on the Inktober prompts. This is a collection of those drabbles. If there's a specific pairing you're interested, the best way to find it is to hit CTRL+F and search for the pairing name (for example, Sylvain/Felix). That should take you right to it. Thanks for reading!

1) ring (Catherine/Shamir)

“What about this one?”

“I told you, it’s a waste of money,” Shamir said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to wear anything that might get lost or broken.”

“But I want to get you _something_,” Catherine said, disappointment drawing her mouth down. “And rings are traditional. Besides -“ she took Shamir’s hand - “a ring would look so nice on your finger.”

Shamir did not soften. “Get one for yourself, if you like them so much.”

“I’d wear one that you got for me,” Catherine said. 

Shamir’s expression did not change, but she was silent for a moment. “Hm. We’ll see.”

2) mindless (Dimitri/Dedue)

In war, he was beautiful. He fought like a fury, like vengeance itself. He never hesitated, never feared.

It was beautiful to see. Dedue was terrified for him. He didn’t know how far this might take Dimitri, what cliff he might fall over that he could not come back from. His fury was without thought, without planning.

Dedue could only follow him, could only help him. He could not pull Dimitri back from the brink, but he could accompany him there, he could stand on that cliff beside his lord. 

Perhaps they would fall together. Perhaps, somehow, he could help Dimitri find a way to fly.

3) bait (Dimitri/Claude, werewolf au)

There is a monster in the woods. Sometimes it walks like a man, sometimes it stalks like a wolf. It’s left bodies in its wake, and perhaps this makes Claude cruel, but he thinks usually those bodies belong to people who deserved it. The corrupt, the violent, or just idiots who tried to catch a wolf.

He wanted to see the monster, but not like this. Not with his hands tied and soldiers lying in wait. Not as a sacrifice, a betrayal.

So when Claude sees it creep out of the darkness, more man than wolf, he meets its eye - only one, brilliant blue, the other a ruin - and whispers, “they’ve come for you. Run.”

The monster doesn’t run. It bares its teeth and the soldiers end up regretting their plan, though not for very long. When Claude’s bonds have been sliced through by sharp teeth, he stands, and he follows his wolf into the darkness. He doesn’t look back.

4) freeze (Hilda/Marianne)

Marianne doesn’t do well with compliments. She never has, and though her world has opened up since coming to Garreg Mach, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be comfortable with that sort of thing. 

Which is why she freezes for a brief moment every time Hilda compliments her. It wouldn’t be so embarrassing if Hilda hadn’t noticed a long time ago, and gone out of her way ever since to say sweet things.

If it were anyone else, Marianne might think it was teasing, or even mean-spirited. But it’s Hilda. It’s Hilda, and so it’s true.

Someday, Marianne thinks, she’ll find the right combination of sweet words to make Hilda freeze, instead.

Someday soon.

5) build (Raphael/Ignatz, modern au)

Raphael squinted at the instructions in Ignatz’ hands. From where he sat, they were upside down, which Ignatz was beginning to realize might be the source of some of their problems.

“These screws don’t fit,” Raphael said. He hefted them in one large hand. “Are there different screws?”

“Just the ones you already put in,” Ignatz said, and went silent in horror. Surely not. That had been at the very beginning of this painful process.

Raphael’s brow furrowed as he came to the same conclusion, albeit far more slowly. 

“...do we really need a new desk?” he asked finally.

“I’m going back to Ikea,” said Ignatz.

It was that or start crying. 

6) husky (Sylvain/Claude, modern au)

“He’s yours, right?” Sylvain held the leash out, grinning. “Pretty handsome.”

“Thanks,” the stranger said, green eyes shining with amusement. “I like to think I’m not too hard on the eyes. Oh, you meant the dog?”

Sylvain laughed, and because he couldn’t _not_, upped the ante. “No, I definitely meant you.”

That flicker of amusement sparked into something real, just for a moment, and something warm grew in Sylvain’s stomach. “How about you let me buy you a coffee in exchange for catching your dog?”

“Somehow,” Green Eyes said, “that seems backward.” He looked at Sylvain for a long moment, and his gaze was just a little too sharp. It wasn’t often that Sylvain felt like someone could see through him so easily. He wasn’t sure he actually liked it. But then Green Eyes smiled, and Sylvain decided that if he smiled like _that_, minor details didn’t matter. “Hard to turn down free coffee from a guy that looks like you, though.”

It was possible Sylvain was being beaten at his own game. It was also very possible that he did not care one bit.

7) enchanted (Caspar/Ashe)

“Not that one,” Claude said urgently, but it was too late. Caspar had already dumped the concoction down his throat.

“Not this one?” His eyes widened. He knew the kinds of things Claude mixed up in his free time. “Am I gonna die?”

“No,” Claude said. “But that was a love potion, not the protein drink I promised you.”

“A WHAT?” Caspar screwed his eyes shut. “No offense, man, but I don’t want to fall for you.”

“None taken,” Claude said, laughter in his voice. “Just don’t-“

There was a crash outside the window, and without thinking, Caspar looked. Below in the courtyard was Ashe, a stack of crates on the ground around him where they had fallen. He looked a little annoyed. He also looked - well - the evening light in his hair was really something.

“Oh no,” Caspar said. “Him?”

“Actually,” Claude said, but Caspar knew what he had to do. If he was now head over heels for Ashe - and he was pretty sure he was - he’d better make a move before someone else did. He stood and made for the door. Flowers? A proclamation of love? Maybe a show of strength… or all of the above? There was no time to waste!

Claude stared at his door, swinging shut behind Caspar. “There’s no such thing as a love potion… I was just messing with you.” He shrugged, turning back to his work. “Oh well. He’ll figure it out.”

8) frail (Dimitri/Felix)

Dimitri could not stop looking at Felix’s wrists. He clutched the sheets as they moved against each other, clutched them as if they were the only things holding him down to the earth. But how could those thin wrists hold on to anything?

Felix held a sword with the same furious urgency that he held on to those sheets. Dimitri had seen it a thousand times - he held on like there was nothing else in the world.

And now this. And now - them, and maybe it was all just as delicate as the slim line of Felix’s wrists, clinging to what they had in this moment.

“Fuck,” Felix snarled, “_harder_, you bastard,” and Dimitri complied, because if everything was about to shatter then he wanted whatever he could get.

9) swing (Dorothea/Ingrid)

“You really play this in Faerghus?” Dorothea looked disbelieving, as if Ingrid might be trying to play a joke on her. 

“It’s pretty popular. You just hit the ball with your bat, then run around the bases. I played it all the time when I was a kid.” Ingrid raised the ball. “I’ll throw it gently, and you swing.”

Dorothea looked dubious, but she raised the bat. Ingrid‘s throw sailed right past her. Dorothea swung the bat far too late, hitting only air, and then she started giggling.

Ingrid pursed her lips, but when Dorothea looked like that, she couldn’t hold back her laughter either. She let herself go, let herself smile and laugh, and every moment was perfect.

10) pattern (Claude/Lorenz)

Claude brushed his hand over the fabric on Lorenz’s shoulder, making it lay flat. His touch lingered for a moment longer than it needed to, but Lorenz allowed it. How could he not?

“It looks good on you,” Claude said with a smile. His eyes were warm, genuine. 

Lorenz scoffed, mostly to distract from the blush that he now knew must be showing itself on his cheeks. It was not fair that he was so much paler than Claude, that Claude could see in an instant the effect his words had.

“It’s not my color,” Lorenz said, though it came out rather less sharp than he intended.

“Well,” Claude said, his eyes never leaving Lorenz, “it is now.”

And Lorenz lifted his hand, pressing his own fingers to the wedding sash, intricately embroidered with the pattern that signified Claude’s family.

It was, in fact, his color. But he was sure Claude already knew that.

11) snow (Felix/Sylvain)

When Sylvain was a child, the winters had been lonely and cold. _Cold_ was a matter of course in Faerghus, and he had always supposed that _lonely_ went along with the far north Gautier territory. No one wanted to travel through the frigid snows, and so Sylvain went months with only the unpleasant company of Miklan or, later, no one at all.

But these days he welcomed the snow. As soon as the first flakes began to fall, he knew that it would be a matter of weeks before Sylvain saw Felix’s horse making its way down the road.

He couldn’t have said exactly when this had been decided. They’d certainly never _talked_ about it. But sometime after the end of the war, sometime after Felix gave up the Fraldarius name and chose to make his way with only his blade, it had begun.

He traveled all over during the year, to places Sylvain would never see and frankly didn’t want to. But when the snows came, he returned, wintering in Gautier. In Sylvain’s castle, in Sylvain’s bed.

They never really talked about it, and Sylvain always feared the winter Felix didn’t return. But he kept coming back, again and again, and Sylvain began to love the winter.

He sat by the window, watching the first flakes of snow begin to fall, and pressed his hand to the glass. It wouldn’t be long now.

12) dragon (Mercedes/Annette)

“You saw it, right?” Annette looked dreamy, tangling her fingers together. “I mean, the battle, everything else - that was terrible. But, Mercie! A real dragon!”

Annette’s admiration was hard not to appreciate. It  
been terrible, but that creature of legend soaring above the battlefield - Mercedes had never imagined seeing something like that. Something so awe-inspiring.

“I know a few stories about dragons,” she said. The sun was going down, and they couldn’t journey any further tonight. The next day they’d reach a town, and maybe part ways - but tonight they had this and each other. “Do you want to hear them?”

“Are they scary?” Annette asked, her face screwing up into an adorable frown.

“Not all of them,” Mercedes said, and she was rewarded by Annette laying next to her, cheek pressed to her thigh, attention captured.

“Okay,” Annette said. “But if I get scared, you’re the one who has to take responsibility for it.”

“I think I can do that,” Mercedes said, stroking a piece of stray hair back from Annette’s brow.

13) ash (Dedue/Ashe)

“It’s over,” Ashe said, and he clutched Dedue’s arm, and his eyes looked into the distance, shattered and frightened.

It was that moment that fixed itself into Dedue’s mind. Through all the weeks, months, years after the fall of Garreg Mach, it was that he remembered.

The world all fire and ash around them, armies clashing, their school burning to the ground. Ashe’s face, his fingers clinging to Dedue as if that was his last chance for safety.

Dedue couldn’t save him. But if he could find a way to save Dimitri, perhaps their lord could save them all.

Even Ashe.

Especially Ashe.

14) overgrown (Felix/Ashe)

The monastery was a wreck. Walls torn down, the greenhouse a mass of weeds, everything overgrown and ruined. It looked nothing like it once had. Nothing like the place where Ashe had once belonged.

He heard a footstep behind him and looked up to see Felix. Felix, who had become even more himself over the intervening years, through all the tragedy they had faced. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Ashe said, and he meant it.

“Hmph,” Felix said, and nodded just slightly.

Ashe took that as Felix’s version of ‘I missed you too’, and he smiled.

“We have a lot of work to do,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come, but I hoped you would.”

“Not even you could do all this work yourself,” Felix said, and Ashe knew he was glad he’d came.

15) legend (Caspar/Ashe)

“...and that’s how Caspar and Ashe defeated the Bandit King of Sreng.”

Her daughter yawned, eyes heavy, and blinked up at her. “One more?”

“I know they’re your favorite, honey, but it’s bedtime now. I’ll tell you another one tomorrow, all right?” She smoothed back her daughter’s hair, leaned down to kiss her forehead. 

“Okay,” her daughter said. “But mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Grandpa Ashe told me not all the stories are true, but then Grandpa Caspar said they weren’t true enough. That he was even braver than they said.”

She hid a smile, nodded seriously instead. “You know, they might both be right. Why don’t you ask them to tell you the stories next time we visit?”

“Okay,” her daughter said sleepily, and closed her eyes, dreaming of legends.

16) wild (Dedue/Ashe)

Ashe knew what they said about men of Duscur. He’d heard it whispered before he knew Dedue, and even now sometimes people who knew of their relationship would try to ask him, sideways, whether it was true or not.

Men from Duscur were wild, unrestrained. They were insatiable, insistent.

Ashe always played dumb, pretended he didn’t understand the insinuations. He was good at that. And it wasn’t any of their business, after all.

They didn’t need to know that Dedue was kind, giving, tender. That he was careful, _too_ careful, to keep from hurting Ashe. That, in fact, it was Ashe who had pursued him, Ashe who had won him, and Ashe who had a habit of coaxing him into the restaurant’s storeroom and riding his cock until they were both spent and exhausted and sated.

That wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.

17) ornament (Hilda/Marianne)

Hilda draped the necklace around Marianne, looking at it with a practiced eye. “The chain really works, but I think I’m going to change the jewel.”

“It seems perfect to me,” Marianne said shyly. “Your work always does.”

“Hmm, maybe. But this one _really_ needs to be perfect.”

Marianne blinked. “Oh? This must be an important commission. A noble, right?”

Hilda laughed. “Silly. What’s coming up that I would want to make something special for?”

For a long moment, Marianne thought, until the answer dawned like a sunrise. “Our anniversary!”

“You got it,” Hilda said with a sweet smile. “And I’ve got a gem for this necklace that’ll exactly match your beautiful eyes.”

Marianne blushed, speechless, and silently vowed to find the perfect present too.

18) misfit (Dimitri/Dedue)

It seems that every day, in some small way, Dedue is reminded that he doesn’t belong.

It isn’t always intentional. Sometimes, of course, it is - being from Duscur, there is always someone ready to think the worst of him. But even more often than that, it’s accidental.

It’s the moments he’s a bit too tall for the door frames, or too reserved to make easy conversation. It’s the food, usually good but not quite the kind of cuisine he prefers. It’s the people and their customs, the way they look at him, the way their eyes will linger for just a moment too long and then widen as if to say _look at that_. 

Dedue mostly does not let it bother him. When it does, he retreats to the greenhouse - or, more and more often, to the quiet company of Dimitri, who never looks at him like he’s strange, who never questions his presence or expects things he cannot give.

There, he belongs.

19) sling (Catherine/Shamir)

“I’m not waiting on you,” Shamir said.

“But - my arm!” Catherine held her right arm up, nearly dislodging the sling that had been holding it. Not an ounce of sympathy appeared on Shamir’s face.

“That’s your own fault,” she said. “I told you Lady Rhea wouldn’t be impressed by you beating everyone at the tavern in an arm-wrestling contest.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress Lady Rhea,” Catherine said, repositioning the sling, nudging her shoulder against Shamir’s.

“It didn’t impress me, either,” Shamir said, but Catherine thought that just for a moment, the slightest of instants, there might have been a smile in Shamir’s eyes. 

Maybe that was worth a sprained wrist.

20) tread (Felix/Ashe)

The footsteps behind Felix were unexpected. He tensed, hand gripping the hilt of his sword - then he recognized those careful footsteps.

“Ashe,” he said, frowning. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me. I practice with a live blade.”

“Oh,” Ashe said, apologetic. “I was going to say something, but I didn’t want to distract you.”

Felix chose not to say that it had ended up all right only because he had recognized Ashe’s distinctive tread. Embarrassing to admit he’d memorized such a thing.

“What are you doing here?” he said instead, turning to face Ashe. 

Ashe held a teapot in his hand, two cups dangling from his fingers. “I thought you might want a break.” He smiled, sweet and genuine.

Felix had been training for awhile. He considered, then shrugged. “May as well.”

Ashe’s grin brightened, shining like the sun.

21) treasure (Mercedes/Annette)

In a small box underneath her bed, Annette keeps all her most precious possessions.

To anyone else, it would probably look like trash. There are crumpled papers - the first ones she ever received perfect scores on. An old doll, given to her by her father, so long ago. A cheap pendant from her mother.

A birthday flower from Felix, given with an embarrassed frown, that she’d dried between the pages of a book. A silly drawing from Ashe. A handwritten recipe in Dedue’s careful writing.

A ring bearing a small but perfect diamond, flanked by two tiny sapphires. It lives in the box because Annette doesn’t want to lose it, and because it’s been replaced.

That one, she wears. Every day she slips the slim golden band Mercedes gave her into her finger, and though she was terrified she’d lose it, she never does. Not once.

22) ghost (Raphael/Ignatz)

“Oh,” said Raphael casually, as if making a very normal and not terrifying at all observation, “this is where Lysithea said she saw a ghost.”

“_What_,” said Ignatz, freezing in place. It was late, the moon high in the sky, most of the monastery asleep. He already felt like he was doing something wrong going back to his room so late, but Raphael had needed help studying.

Now he felt a thousand times worse. “She saw a _ghost_?”

“Yeah, right here,” Raphael said. “She was pretty upset.” He did not appear bothered by the thought.

Ignatz stood very, very still, peering into the shadows. “I… don’t see anything.”

“Of course not,” Raphael said cheerily. “Ghosts are always right behind you.”

Ignatz barely suppressed a shriek, whirling around. There was nothing there.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Raphael said. “If a ghost appears, I’ll just punch it.”

“That’s not…” Ignatz trailed off, deciding not to finish his sentence. Maybe ghosts couldn’t be punched, but somehow he felt like the shining light of Raphael’s sincerity could protect him anyway.

But still.

“Let’s go before it shows up,” he said, and took Raphael’s arm, telling himself it was only to keep them both from getting lost in the darkness.

23) ancient (Dimitri/Claude)

The first time Dimitri had seen Claude in the monastery library, he’d been surprised. At first glance, Claude didn’t seem the sort to spend hours doing research on his own.

It did not take long for Dimitri to realize that, whatever his first impression had been, Claude was _exactly_ that sort.

And so he grew used to seeing Claude in the library at all hours. He’d be doing his own research, late at night after nearly everyone had gone to bed, and he would look up to see Claude at another table, head bent low over a book, lantern light glinting off his dark hair.

He got used to it, seeing Claude there, and he got used to the way the other boy would quietly acknowledge his presence as well. A quick smile across the tables, a quiet _good night_ when Claude left before him. Never interrupting, but always aware of each other.

Until one night when Dimitri was poring over a ledger, slowly getting more frustrated as he failed to find what he was looking for. He closed it harder than necessary, frustration getting the better of him. He had so many more to look through, and the crabbed handwriting was giving him a headache, and he wasn’t finding _anything_.

He was nearly through the next ledger when Claude settled in the seat next to him. He set down two things: a cup of tea and a book that was practically in pieces, it was so old.

“I made too much,” he said by way of explanation, pushing the tea toward Dimitri. He could smell it - chamomile. Just the scent seemed to calm him.

“And look at this,” Claude said, pushing the book open to reveal detailed, beautiful illustrations of beasts that Dimitri had never imagined. “I stumbled across it the other day. This is supposedly a lamia.”

Dimitri’s fingers curled around the warm cup. He could not, in all politeness, ask Claude to leave, he reasoned. Besides, a break might do him some good. He should have realized that himself.

Claude, he was beginning to understand, was far too observant.

He leaned in, looking over Claude’s shoulder. “And what is that one?”

Claude smiled at him, a brilliant thing that Dimitri would later assure himself had not taken his breath away, and turned the page.

24) dizzy (Sylvain/Felix)

The room spun.

It was the alcohol, probably, and not Felix’s warm body so close to his.

“How can you be this much of a lightweight when you’re so damn tall,” Felix grumbled. The room spun around Sylvain, his back hit something soft, and suddenly he was laying on his bed.

The ceiling was still spinning a little.

“And heavy,” Felix added, not an ounce less annoyance in his voice. Sylvain felt something tugging at his feet and raised his head just enough to see Felix pulling his boots off.

“Knew you’d try to get me out of my clothes eventually,” he said, enunciating his words with care so they didn’t slur. See? He wasn’t _that_ drunk.

“I should’ve let you pass out at the table,” Felix said, and he stood. “There’s water by your bed. You’ll need it in the morning. Try not to throw up.” 

Sylvain reached out, grabbing Felix’s sleeve. “You’re just gonna leave me alone?” 

“Yes,” Felix said, with no hesitation but with a deep scowl.

“C’mon, Felix,” Sylvain said, pulling him so he stumbled closer. “Just for tonight.”

In the morning, Sylvain wouldn’t remember the expression that crossed Felix’s face. The moment of something that might have been tenderness, or longing, or some softer emotion neither of them would name.

“Fine,” Felix said, “but if you throw up on me your head is going to end up on the gates of the monastery.”

Sylvain probably fell asleep for a little bit then, because the next thing he remembered was looking up at the ceiling. The room was still spinning, but Felix was pressed warm against his side, under his arm, fast asleep.

The world spun around them. Sylvain didn’t care.

25) tasty (Dimitri/Felix)

The cookies were still warm, fresh out of the oven. The little boy who had given them to Dimitri had smiled a gap-toothed smile and held them out as an offering, saying his mom made the best cookies in Faerghus.

People were always trying to give Dimitri things. Sometimes it was obviously done to curry favor, other times simply because they loved their prince. This was the latter, and Felix couldn’t stand the look on Dimitri’s face.

He looked _guilty_, of all things. Ashamed. Like he was doing something wrong by being unable to taste the cookies.

Felix hated it.

He took a cookie and, with unnecessary force, took a bite out of it.

Ugh. So sweet.

“They’re fine,” he said in response to Dimitri’s surprised look. Then, reluctantly, he revised his words. “They’re… good. Chocolate and almond, and just a little salty. Sea salt, maybe.”

Dimitri smiled then, and Felix scowled, turning away before he could hear Dimitri’s sincere _thank you, Felix_.

He hated sweets.

26) dark (Claude/Lorenz)

Sometimes Claude couldn’t sleep.

This wasn’t a surprise, really. The war had left none of them untouched, and Lorenz had unpleasant dreams of his own sometimes. But Claude had more trouble. Behind that easy smile of his, his mind was always working, and sometimes sleep was elusive.

Lorenz would wake in the darkness to find the bed empty and cold next to him. He knew by now where Claude could be found - one of three places.

The library, where he would be found surrounded by books, ferreting out some secret or other that refused to let him rest. Usually, Lorenz could coax him back to bed, reminding him the books would be there tomorrow, scolding him gently.

If not there, then what amounted to his office, where all the letters and petitions and documents that came with ruling a kingdom piled up. This meant that there was some aspect of kingship weighing on Claude’s mind, that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until it was dealt with, and that Lorenz’s best course of action was to bring him tea and let him work and try not to worry.

If not either of those places, then Claude could always be found on the highest balcony in the castle, looking up at the stars.

Those were the nights he dreamt of the war. Those were the nights Lorenz would find him and sit down next to him and take his hand. They would look up at the stars, and sometimes they would talk and sometimes they wouldn’t, and by the time the sun rose Claude was usually asleep in his arms.

It didn’t fix everything. Nothing could. But on those mornings, Claude apologetic but smiling as he rubbed sleep from his eyes, hair a mess from Lorenz’s fingers, it felt possible.

27) coat (Dorothea/Ingrid)

The rain was ice cold, like needles on Ingrid’s skin. She hurried, but it really did nothing to keep her from getting soaked. By the time she was inside the monastery, out of the rain, she was shivering.

“Oh, dear,” said Dorothea, lingering by the doorway. Waiting for Ingrid? “I told you you should have taken my coat.”

Ingrid flushed a little as Dorothea stepped close, brushing some of the water off her cheeks with clever fingers. “I think my battalion would be rather startled if I showed up in your clothes.” She replied how that sounded, and flushed again as Dorothea smiled. “I meant that your style doesn’t really suit me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Dorothea said. Her hand was still on Ingrid’s cheek. “But why don’t we get you out of those wet clothes and find out?”

The warmth of Dorothea’s attention blunted the chill of the rain, and Ingrid found herself smiling.

28) ride (Sylvain/Claude)

Claude pressed Sylvain’s wrists to the bed, that infernal smile never leaving his face. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” he said, and Sylvain found himself grinning too, curling his fingers into the sheets to resist the urge to wrap them around Claude’s hips again.

“Not fair,” Sylvain said, breathless as Claude moved again on him, sliding Sylvain’s cock deeper into his tight heat. “You didn’t say I couldn’t, either.”

Claude laughed, a hitch in his voice as he moved his hips, balancing easily atop Sylvain. “Yeah? Well, now you know the rules. If you want to touch me, you better start begging.”

There was a playfulness in everything Claude did. Sometimes it slid into insincerity, and those were the times Sylvain felt he understood Claude best. But right now there was none of that, only their mutual need and the smile on Claude’s face.

Sylvain moved his hips, fucking up into Claude. “_Please_,” he said, and he didn’t know whether it was the movement or the word that drew a sharp gasp of pleasure from Claude’s lips.

“That’s better,” Claude said, and he let go of Sylvain’s hands, back arching as he rode Sylvain harder. And then it was all lust and need, his hands on Claude’s hips, the curve of Claude’s back, the tightness of Claude’s body around his cock, and Sylvain stopped thinking entirely.

29) injured (Marianne/Hilda)

There wasn’t much that made Marianne feel useful. Most days, she felt like she was bad at everything, like her presence alone was a blight upon the world. She needed too much help, she made too many mistakes.

But there were a few things that weren’t like that. Taking care of Dorte, of course. And - this.

She held her hands over Hilda’s ankle, healing magic coursing through her. It had been the victim of a rather brutal-looking misstep during training. Hilda had enlisted two of the boys who’d been training at the time to carry her out of there - and instead of the infirmary, she’d made them take her to Marianne.

It wasn’t the first time Hilda had sought her out to heal small injuries. Marianne has never told her, would never tell her, but - she was deeply thankful.

Knowing that she could help someone. That she could help _Hilda_, who had helped her in so many ways. Knowing that she could do this and put some tiny amount of good in the world.

“Thanks,” Hilda said, and smiled at her. “I feel way better. You’re such a sweetheart, Marianne!”

Marianne blushed a deep pink. She couldn’t help it. And when she saw the way Hilda’s smile softened -

Well. She’d heal a thousand twisted ankles for the chance at one more smile like that.

30) catch (Sylvain/Felix)

The girls were around a corner, hidden from view. Felix was just looking for somewhere to practice where he wouldn’t be bothered. He heard them entirely by accident.

“He’s a big flirt, and kind of an idiot, but he’ll be the Margrave someday. With a crest, too. What a great catch!” 

There was a giggle, and then another voice. “And he’s pretty handsome. All I need to do is find a way to make him get serious.”

“I have a few ideas-“

And then Felix’s previously quiet and private practice devolved into him trying not to listen while a couple of idiots compared ways to get Sylvain to marry them.

As if any of them could _really_ understand what an idiot he was, and how cursed they’d be if they succeeded.

It got under his skin, got to him in a way he hadn’t expected, and that was the only reason why - when he heard Sylvain’s familiar voice greeting the girls - he dropped his sword, walked around the corner, grabbed hold of Sylvain’s collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

There were gasps of shock. The girls scattered. Sylvain stared at him.

“You should be thanking me,” Felix said, annoyed. To his shock, a true smile bloomed on Sylvain’s face.

As it turned out, Sylvain had some interesting ideas about how to express his thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> I did write a final Dimitri/Claude fic for the prompt 'ripe', but it uh... got away from me and can be found here: [we will fall like ripe fruit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258221).


End file.
